A/N: The Ducks are owned by whomever, but the story’s plot and ideas are, for the most part, SaphireElfCat. I added a few quirks (like the monster), but the plot was hers! .
“Pushed to the Edge”
Chapter One
Mallory McMallard loved and hated being a Mighty Duck. Sure, some of the publicity stunts were just plain ridiculous, and the celebrity of it all was just astounding. By the end of the night, she’d have signed a dozen of autographs, and no doubt one person would have offered to pay for her dinner. She wouldn’t accept it, but still, it was a nice gesture.
Fresh out of a hockey uniform, Mallory decided to show her feminine side—a short-cut dress, hugging her in just the right places, and high-heeled shoes—and head out to the Mall. Staring down at the hockey rink, she nodded once to herself, then suddenly, she blinked. What just happened? One moment she was at the top of the stairs, and now—her vision blurred, and unwillingly, she was dragged into unconsciousness.
*^*^*
Groaning, Mallory felt as if her head was a bowling ball, and it had just earned all strikes. Moving to touch the side, she thought she almost felt it throbbing, but that was just silly. Then again, so was falling down ten stairs and not realizing it until after you did it.
“I didn’t see anyone.”
“Well, there must have been something there. I doubt Mallory would have just fallen down the stairs by herself.”
The masculine voice—Wildwing, she realized—returned, “I don’t. Those high heels, they are dangerous.”
Tanya laughed. “For a drake, yes, but for us, trust me. Women do what you do, just in high heels.”
“Got that right,” Mallory added, hissing slightly as she pushed to sit up.
“Hey, hey, be careful,” Tanya advised, coming to sit on the edge of the bed next to redhead.
Squinting, Mallory lightly touched the back of her head and asked, “What happened?”
Wildwing crossed his arms as he came to stand at the foot of her bed. “I was coming out to make sure I got the goal poles when I found you unconscious at the bottom of the stairs. Tanya says there’s no concussion, but still…you okay?”
Mallory decided not to nod. “Yeah…I guess. I don’t remember falling, though. Perhaps someone pushed me or something?”
Tanya shrugged. “I doubt anyone could’ve gotten in here—at least, not the Saurian again, but…”
“I already checked the monitors,” Wildwing concluded with a shake of his head. “I didn’t see anyone there. You just were walking, and then you fell. I say it’s your high heels.” He smirked. “Ever think of flats?”
“Even these legs don’t look in flats, Wing,” she scoffed and sat back on the pillows. “You would do horribly as a girl, you know that?”
“Thank the Stars,” he retorted, then waved as he left the infirmary. “Stay off your feet for a few days and whatever else Tanya tells you do. Captain’s orders!”
Mallory crossed her arms and averted her eyes. Sure, she’d do the order, but she couldn’t say she liked the feeling in her stomach. Something wasn’t right. She just knew it.
*^*^*
“You’re being paranoid.”
Mallory snorted and crossed her arms. “Paranoia just means I’m afraid of being followed. What happens when it’s the truth?”
“Then you’re also delusional.”
“You’re just here because I taught your pestering little brother not to prank me anymore.”
Wildwing rolled his eyes and decided not to comment. After all, she was right, but that wasn’t why they were totally there. It was Mallory’s vicious demeanor. Since falling two weeks ago, she’d had two episodes; both times she had been wearing her battlegear boots. The first occurred in the Mall while she was out shopping in an almost empty store, and the EMTs had to be called, another just before a hockey game in the hanger after she returned from food shopping. The team ended up forfeiting, but that was the least of their worries.
Mallory continually screamed at the team for simply tapping her on the shoulder or even talking to her when her back was turned. When Duke came out of the bathroom behind her, she even whirled and pointed her puck launcher at him, and just yesterday, Nosedive thought it would be funny to hide in her closet. That time, Mallory even shot, and luckily, her fear had caused her launcher to throw off her aim. She narrowly missed the boy.
But Wildwing wasn’t going to take anymore chances.
“You know I’m just worried about you,” he said soothingly, putting a hand on her elbow. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. Whoever’s been pushing me down the stairs needs to worry.”
Wildwing rolled his eyes. It was hopeless; perhaps someone else could get through to her.
“Ms. McMallard,” the receptionist called, and Wildwing stood. When Mallory refused to, he put out his hand.
“Mallory, please. Humor me, okay?”
The words hit a cord, and she growled as she stood and walked into the room. The dreaded long couch sat on one end of the room, while a smaller love seat touched the corner perpendicular-wise. Across from the couch was the doctor’s desk, where he sat in a swivel chair before it.
“Ah, it isn’t the free-wheeling, fun-loving, lovable Mighty Ducks. Welcome, Ms. McMallard,” the doctor greeted gently, standing and offering Mallory a hand.
Wildwing knew from her tensing she wanted nothing more than to give him a puck to the stomach, but she at least was willing to shake the man’s hand. Then, she took a seat on the couch, as Wildwing greeted the doctor.
“Doctor Talcalotsen, thank you for seeing us on such short notice.”
“Anything for the Mighty Ducks, Mr. Flashblade.”
“Yeah, right,” Mallory grumbled under her breath.
“I’m sorry, Ms. McMallard. Did you say something?”
Wildwing already liked this guy.
“Yes, Doctor. I was just saying how much competition there must be between you and real doctors.”
Apparently Mallory didn’t.
The doctor surprisingly kept his cool and hardly blinked. “Doctors and people’s subconscious are just some of the phobias I help my patients understand, Ms. McMallard. So, please, continue. Tell me what brings you here.”
Mallory’s scowl only darkened, and she simply pointed to Wildwing sitting next to her. “Him.”
“Mr. Flashblade?”
Wildwing sighed and rubbed his hands down his jeans. “Well, Doctor, lately Mallory has seemed a little…stressed, and I think it might have to do with the Saurians she fights and perhaps all the publicity stunts we’ve done lately.”
“Uh-huh.” The doctor scratched quickly on his notepad. “So, Saurians?”
“Yes. The lizard-aliens we try to stop from taking over the world.”
“Ah, so delusional perhaps?”
Mallory choked, then moved to lunge and tackle the doctor, but Wildwing caught her just before she vaulted off the couch. “Doctor, we all fight the Saurians, not just Mallory.”
The doctor furled an eyebrow. “Then perhaps you are all delusion?”
“Uh, no, Doctor.” Wildwing’s voice hardened. “The Saurians are not a figment of our imaginations. They took over our planet and enslaved it, so unless you want us to prove to you their existence by allowing them to take over your planet, I’d suggest we stay on target.”
Not at all perturbed, the doctor nodded and scribbled down upon his notebook one more time. “Agreed. Tell me why you have decided to come now. What preceded Ms. McMallard’s visit?”
“I’m here—in the room,” Mallory grumbled.
“Well.” Wildwing shifted nervously. “Recently, Mallory’s fallen down the stairs and been knocked unconscious. She swears that someone has been pushing her or hitting her over the head. She’s always alone, and when I check the security monitors, there is no one around her.”
“Which probably explains her paranoia and phobias.” Writing hastily, the doctor then dropped his notebook to his lap. “Good, okay. Mr. Flashblade, would you mind leaving Ms. McMallard and me alone for a few minutes, so we may discuss confidentially her thoughts and feelings?”
“Of course.” Wildwing stood but was halted by a hand tugging his back, the fingernails digging into his wrist.
“I will kill you and make it look like suicide if you leave,” Mallory threatened.
The leader actually debated whether or not she was telling the truth when he decided that yes, she was. After all, he felt the blood starting to drip down his wrist.
Detaching her hand with much difficulty, Wildwing forced a gentle smile. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
When the door clicked shut, the doctor sighed and picked up his notebook once more. “So, Ms. McMallard, tell me about these Saurians you fight? Do just you and your team see them?
Mallory’s death glare could’ve killed him.
*^*^*^
Wildwing was already half-way through ESPN magazine when he heard it—a fearful shrill that slowly decreased in volume. The leader shared an uncertain glance with the receptionist, then dashed into the room. Mallory stood by the open window, a wide, feral smile upon her face, and she shrugged at Wildwing’s incredulous glare.
“He asked me how I feel and to demonstrate it,” said Mallory innocently. “You were right. I do feel better. Good session.”
“Doctor?” the receptionist asked, glancing about the empty room besides Mallory. A sinking feeling ravaged the leader’s gut, and he rushed to the window. Sure enough, in the dumpster under the window groaned a dirtied and thoroughly ruffed up Doctor Talcalotsen.
“She’s insane!” the doctor screamed up at Wildwing as he struggled to stand, then slipped on a banana.
Wildwing smiled sheepishly. “Is that your professional opinion?”
*^*^*
“I’m just worried about you,”
Mallory threw her purse down upon the couch, then plopped down onto it. “Stars, Wildwing! You think you’re worried? There is someone who has been repeatedly assaulting me, and I can’t find him or her. How do you think that makes me feel?”
Wildwing sometimes wished he wore the Mask all the time. That way he could hide his facial expressions, especially when he had to deal with these types of difficult situations. He didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to think that what was happening was, but he was the team leader. How could he just ignore the problem?
Sitting down next to Wildwing, he let out a long-suffering sigh. “Mallory, what do you truly believe is happening? Some invisible man is coming up behind you and pushing you down the stairs?”
Mallory glanced at him sideways before turning her body, so she faced Wildwing perpendicularly. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“Crazy?” he echoed, then shook his head. “No. Not at all. Stressed, maybe. Exhausted, possibly.”
The red-haired mallard shook her head slowly at first, then dropped her head into her hands. “Not you. I thought, maybe Duke or Nosedive, but I never thought you’d think I’m going insane.”
“Mallory, look at the facts—”
“Facts? Look at the reality!” Mallory shouted, pushing to stand an pace. “Wildwing, I was part of the Special Forces. Even before the Saurians came to Earth, I hunted down terrorists and abusers and murderers! And now, when we’re on Earth and practically celebrities, you think I’ve cracked? Does that seem plausible to you?”
“Then give me something,” he practically begged. “Tangible proof that you are sane and that someone is attacking you because right now—”
“You shouldn’t need proof!” Mallory shouted, pointing an accusory finger at her leader. “I’m your friend and have never lied to you. That should be enough for you, but if it isn’t, then—” She snatched her purse and stormed from the room. “—we are done.”
Wildwing sighed and leaned his elbows on his knees. Now what could he do?
*^*^*
“Obviously, we have a problem, and I hoping we could come to a nice happy medium here,” Wildwing began, crossing his arms over his chest. “That includes not sending Mallory to a mental institution, Nosedive.”
The younger brother shut his open beak, then sank back into his seat. “Sure, says the one who hasn’t been shot at yet.”
Sitting at Drake One’s console, Tanya laughed over her shoulder, “That also applies to everyone else in this room. I wonder if it’s just you.”
Duke put up a hand. “Who’s for putting Nosedive in a mental institution?”
Nosedive rolled his eyes and beseeched to Wildwing, who put up his hands. “Okay, everyone. Though I agree with Duke—”
“Hey!”
“—I think we need to stay focused. Mallory. Obviously the stress has been getting to her. We need to figure out how to alleviate that and help her through this difficult time.”
Nosedive snorted. “I’m not saying anything or taking a side until I know where Mallory is.”
“She’s out shopping. Apparently, Phil gave her a $300 gift card, and she figured she needed new shoes,” Wildwing said, thumbing toward the door.
“Which more or less means you asked Phil to give it her.”
“Naturally. All I hope is that she doesn’t get anymore high-heeled shoes.”
“You’re going about this all wrong, Wildwing,” Tanya interjected, turning about in her chair to see the leader. “Mallory is the strongest willed person here—with the exception of Grin.”
The burly duck sitting in the chair to her right nodded his appreciation for his inner strength.
“While I don’t know what’s going on, I really don’t think she’s going crazy.”
“But we have to take the necessary precautions, sweetheart,” Duke interjected. “After all, if she does snap while fighting Dragaunus, then we’ll have more problems than just Lizard Lips.”
“Well, yeah, but still—”
“Her inner peace is conflicted, worried,” Grin soothed, his calming voice helping to lower the teammates’ heated words. “However, she is not confused with reality, only with what is there.”
Nosedive let out a long sigh, then slammed his head against his seat’s back. “Nope. Even knocked senseless, Grin still makes no sense.”
“I think
what Grin means, baby bro, is that he agrees with Tanya.” Wildwing
sighed himself, then nodded. “Fine.
Fine. What do you think of this? Phil asked us to go
on the maiden voyage of The Sea Duck.”
He ignored Nosedive’s snicker. “It’s a cruise ship that sails out to the
“Mallory has to go crazy more often,” Duke commented with a smile. “Apparently, that’s the only time we get a vacation.”
He barely ducked the puck Tanya threw at him.
*^*^*
Nosedive hated Wildwing. Sure, his older brother was great, always watching out for him and even putting his own life on the line more than once for his baby brother; however, Wildwing was just stupid when it came to Mallory McMallard. Nosedive knew it probably had something to do with those long gazes he would send her way when he didn’t think she was looking or helping her with fighting, but that didn’t help the mallard now.
The teen made sure to keep a good foot or so away from deadly female. After all, he knew she could kill his tail feathers, but the major problem was—they were alone…with the exception of the people at the mall, which, if Mallory were to go crazy, he would have to protect.
Wonderful.
Of course, this could all be traced back to Wildwing. The leader of the Mighty Ducks had decreed since Mallory’s last attack that she could not go off by herself. The captain of the Puckworld Legion rebelled, screamed, and actually lunged at Wildwing, but in the end, he won out. Thus, when she decided to go shopping for tomorrow’s cruise vacation, she took Wildwing’s little brother hostage.
Or at least that was what it felt like.
“How about we go for some shirts, huh?” she asked with a too wicked smile, moving in close to grab his wrist. He smiled forcibly, flinching from her grasp, but then grunted when she tugged him madly into the nearest store. It was as if she was taking joy in his misery and fear. That was probably because she was.
That was, until he saw it for himself.
They were skimming through the tube and tank tops, much to Nosedive’s chagrin. After all, Mallory always loved to put them against him and make comments. The hot pink was her favorite, especially today when she pressed it against his chest.
“Looking good, Flashblade. Nice pigment with your complexion.”
Oh, how he loathed his brother. Too afraid to even breath wrong in her presence, Nosedive couldn’t snap back, “I say the same thing to you with my jock straps,” but this time, he simply smiled.
Then, she grinned evilly and began to work off his shirt. “Come on. Why don’t you try this one on?”
He pulled down on the hem of T-shirt. “Oh, let’s not and say we didn’t, huh?”
“Oh, come on! How much could it hurt?”
Oh, Stars, if there was any paparazzi around, he just knew they would eat this up. Front page of People for sure. Oh, Wildwing was dead.
Of course, the Stars must have had compassion, for as soon as Mallory worked off his shirt and started to pull the tube top over his head, Nosedive felt it. Out of nowhere, Mallory was forced forward, smacking into his chest. The momentum knocked him to the ground as well, and he immediately knew the truth Wildwing refused to see for the past month or so.
Mallory was not crazy.
How could she be? Mallory was in shape, poised in only the way a professional athlete is, and if she simply fell forward, then Nosedive easily could have caught her. He liked to admit it; he h ad lifted her more than once after a battle when she was injured. He would have caught her; thus, he knew she had been assaulted.
Of course, his swiveling on the ground and looking back at the exit helped, and he quickly saw the back of a retreating trench coat. Someone had been there after all. How he managed all this time to evade Mallory’s glances and her fighting skills worried the younger Flashblade, but at the moment, that didn’t matter. Now that he knew Mallory wasn’t crazy, he could tell Wildwing.
Wildwing would believe him, right?
As long as he lived that long. Mallory growled and reached for his wrists, pulling him into a sitting position. “Did you see that? Did you see whoever that—”
“Yeah, I did, and—”
“Of course you didn’t. Of all the nitwit, stupid—wait, what?” Mallory blinked, and her hands slowly slid down Nosedive’s arms to grab his shoulders. “You saw?”
Nosedive smirked at the expression upon her face. Ah, it had all been worth it for that. “Yeah, Mal. I think I just saw someone flee out the door, too. Who knew? You’re actually sane.”
Mallory wanted to smack him, he could tell, but she restrained herself. After all, he just proved she was not insane, and Nosedive had a feeling that for a while, she wasn’t sure if she was or not, either.
*^*^*
“Perhaps you saw someone
else,” Wildwing suggested as he pulled the luggage
from the Migrator and handed it to the valet. “Another customer?”
“In Mallory’s girly store with a trench coat on?” Nosedive argued with a shake of his head. He couldn’t believe this. His own brother didn’t trust him. “Come on, Wildwing. You’re not this dense! Someone is after Mal.”
“Or there is another explanation.”
Nosedive rolled his eyes and helped the valet lift the luggage onto the cart. “Fine. Name one.”
Wildwing smiled widely. “Perhaps you’re both insane.”
The luggage slipped through Nosedive’s hand. “You have to be kidding me.”
“No,” the elder brother said,
picking up the luggage and tussling his little brother
hair, “but think of it this way. If someone is after Mallory, then perhaps
getting out of
Nosedive slammed his palm into his forehead. Stars, when Wildwing decided something, unless an anvil landed on his head, nothing would persuade him differently. Nosedive just hoped it wouldn’t cost Mallory her life—or fake an anvil for him to see the truth.
*^*^*
Mallory sighed and leaned her
elbows upon the railing of the ship. Though it wasn’t scheduled to pull out until
tomorrow, the ship’s captain had been nice enough to allow the Mighty Ducks to
board early. Mallory reveled in the calmness of the night and simply soaked up
the sight of the stars. For the first time in a long time, she could take a
deep breath and let it out contentedly. After all, for the first time in a
while, she knew she wasn’t crazy.
It wasn’t that she actually doubted her sanity, but when everyone around you is telling you’re insane and no one believes you when you say you’re not…you tend to think you might be.
But now, Nosedive—Stars! Nosedive—believed her, and even if no one else did, it was enough.
“Feeling comfortable, Ms. McMallard?”
Mallory nodded and stood up straighter. “Yes, thank you, Captain—”
But it wasn’t the captain.
*^*^*
Nosedive flopped down his bed, his hands out to the sides of his body. Stars, sometimes, Wildwing just frustrated him. When this was all over, his brother was going to owe him and Mallory one big ass apology. …though come to think of it, Nosedive probably owed Mallory an apology, too, but he’d let that one slide.
A knock sounded at the door, and he flung off his bed. He hoped it was his brother, coming to give the aforementioned apology, but he doubted Wildwing would knock. Since they shared a room, he should have his key on him—
Nope. He should have known. Standing in the hallway was a thoroughly soaked Mallory, her pink top covered by a towel and the ship’s captain standing behind her.
“Ms. McMallard was pushed overboard,” the captain informed swiftly, allowing Nosedive to open the door wider and motion for Mallory to enter. “I heard her screams, but she refuses to see the ship’s doctor—”
“No problem—Whoa!” Mallory grabbed him by the wrist as she passed and tugged him back into the cabin. The door slammed shut on the captain, who shouted, “Good night!” but Nosedive was preoccupied by Mallory’s pacing.
“Six—Six-foot-two, a hundred-ninety pounds, balding with side gray hair—why aren’t you writing this down?” Mallory shrilled at the completely stunned teen, who furled an eyebrow.
“Uh, possibly because I’m not the police.”
“No, we can’t go to the police. Not until we have the guy.” Mallory rummaged through his draws, not caring what she undid or threw things out until she found a pen and paper and thrust it into Nosedive’s hands. “That’s all we’d need—People magazine printing a story about me being pushed. They’d probably wonder what the crime actually is. Now, six feet to six-foot-two, a hundred-ninety pounds, balding, a trench coat, and black shoots.”
“So, what am I writing again?” Nosedive asked, flicking the pen on the paper.
“What do you think?” Mallory practically bubbled with excitement. “I actually saw the guy this time!”
“Really?” Nosedive narrowed his eyes with a smirk. “Very good, Watson.”
Mallory’s face deflated instantly. “No way. This is happening to me, which makes me Sherlock, Watson.”
“But Watson is the idiot of the two,” Nosedive whined.
“So, then it fits you perfectly.”
Nosedive snorted with a good-natured shake of his head, then went back to his notes. “So, are we doing what I think we’re doing?”
Mallory smirked and put out her hand. “We’re going after the son-of-a-gun.”
To Be Continued…
A/N: This is what happens when you’ve written over a hundred pages in two
weeks.